


Sex Bomb

by my99centdreams



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 17:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7626928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my99centdreams/pseuds/my99centdreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's got to say something. He's got to. They've been together for almost a year now and his - his <em>need</em> for this god damn<em> word</em> has been here for the entire fucking time. He can't escape it. He wants it so bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> Try not to judge me for the title of this lmao it's a Spinnerette song the lyrics totally fit. But, damn, it's been almost a year since my last fic and it took me this long to finally finish this. This is really plotless I was going to make it into something, but changed my mind as you can probably tell. Hope you like it!

Jordie’s been trying to convince Tyler to ride the mechanical bull at Alex’s Tavern since Tyler was first traded to Dallas.

The day Tyler rides a fucking mechanical bull is the day he gets traded back to Boston.

“C’mon,” Jordie whines, elbows on the sticky table. “Everyone’s tried it at least once.”

Tyler raises an eyebrow, skeptical, “Jamie's never tried it."

Jordie slumps even lower in his seat; Tyler’s surprised he hasn’t slipped right under the table by now. “Jamie doesn’t count.”

Tyler laughs, “I think Jamie counts more than anyone else.” He takes a sip of his beer. “Seriously, if you get Jamie on that thing I’ll give it a try.”

Jordie doesn’t even perk up, just lets out another defeated whine, “That’s not fair.”

Tyler shrugs, “It’s the best I can do, bro.” They’re quiet for a moment, finishing off their beers as they glance around the bar. Tyler’s still not used to being able to sit silently with someone and not have it be awkward; it’s one of his favorite things about the Benn brothers.

Jamie’s still up at the bar, caught in a conversation with some dude wearing a Modano jersey. Tyler can see the way his hair sticks to the back of his neck and how his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat, his shirt a little damp near the collar. “It’s fucking hot in here, man.” Tyler says. “Why do you always wanna come here?” It’s a shit bar. There’s really no other way to put it. The beer’s always warm, the TV’s always playing dumb soap operas, and there’s a fight at least twice a week. He narrows his eyes, “If you’re only still coming here because of the bull I’m gonna dump my fucking beer on you.”

Jordie laughs, looking unconcerned as he tugs his hat off to fix his hair, “It’s not because of the bull. I don’t know; I just like this place, I guess.”

“It’s shit,” Tyler says.

Jordie nods, “That it is.”

Tyler watches Jamie at the bar for another minute, "Maybe if Jamie was drunk enough he’d ride the bull.”

"You think?" Jordie perks up, eyes bright as he follows Tyler’s gaze to where Jamie is. “We should probably go rescue him.”

“Give it another minute or two he seems okay for now.” He looks comfortable, relaxed. The guy he’s talking to is waving his hands around enthusiastically and Jamie’s laughing easily, hands still by his sides instead of fidgeting anxiously.

Tyler doesn’t actually think Jamie will ever get on the bull no matter what the circumstances are, but it’s worth a try, right? And it's not even that Tyler actually really wants to see Jamie ride a fucking mechanical bull or anything he just kind of wants to see what it'd take to get Jamie to do something out of his comfort zone.

Tyler turns back to Jordie, "Worth a shot, right?"

Jordie slaps his hand on the table obnoxiously, grin nearly splitting his face in half, and says, "Why the fuck not?"

Jamie comes back to the table a few seconds later, squeezing in next to Tyler and draping an arm across the top of the seat behind Tyler’s shoulders. Jamie grins down at him, "Hey."

Tyler smiles, "Hey." And even though it's hot and stuffy in the bar and everything smells like beer and sweat, Jamie still smells good. He smells like soap and a little like cinnamon if Tyler leans in close enough.

"You good?" Jamie asks, eyes dark. His hair's curling out from under his dumb baseball cap and there's a drop of sweat sliding down his neck that Tyler wants to catch with his thumb and the way Jamie's hand looks curled around his beer has Tyler squirming to be held down.

"Yeah, yeah I'm great."

Jordie groans, snagging one of the beers Jamie brought back, "Drink up, bro."

Jamie raises an eyebrow in Jordie's direction, but does as he's told, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he's finished.

Jordie raises his beer, "Keep going, there's plenty more."

Jamie's eyes narrow, suspicious, "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"No," Jordie drawls, eyes flicking over to Tyler with the subtlety of a fucking anvil. Tyler can't help but groan. "Why would I do that?"

Jamie rolls his eyes, "I'm not riding the fucking bull. Give up."

“This isn’t about the bull!” Jordie’s voice rises in pitch, "Who ever said anything about the bull? We're just trying to have a good time here." He leans in closer, voice dropping a little. "Why? Are you thinking about trying the bull out?"

Jamie gives him a look, "No."

"Well, we'll see how the night goes. Maybe you'll change your mind." Jordie winks and leans back against the seat again.

Jamie glances at him out of the corner of his eye, like he wants to make sure Tyler's there to witness how absolutely fucking lame his brother is. Tyler's shoulders shake as he tries to hold in his laughter.

*

Jamie doesn't end up riding the mechanical bull to the shock of absolutely no one. Actually, Jamie doesn't even end up getting drunk. To be fair, the last time Jamie allowed himself to get drunk was when they finally clinched a playoff spot for the first time in five years so maybe Jordie was aiming a bit high.

Tyler and Jordie, on the other hand, end up completely wasted, one hundred percent dependent on Jamie to get them home in one piece.

Jamie does, because he’s actually really good at taking care of people. It’s one of Tyler’s favorite things about him.

Still, Tyler wishes the whole drunk situation was reversed, wishes he could talk to Jamie about what he wants to without feeling mortified.

Jamie props Tyler up against the doorway to his apartment first, instructing him not to move while he guides Jordie to their apartment on the next floor. Tyler waits for him patiently, too drunk to even think about getting his keys out. Jamie's quick though, before he knows it they're inside and Jamie's flitting around Tyler’s home, grabbing water and painkillers before shoving Tyler into bed.

Tyler watches him place everything on the nightstand with drooping eyes.

“We’re still going to the movies if you’re hung over so don’t try to back out," Jamie warns, stripping off his clothes quickly.

Tyler scoffs, like he would ever back out of plans with Jamie. “I won’t.”

Jamie looks at him for a moment, big doe eyes soft and fond, before nodding, a small smile breaking out. “Okay,” he says. “Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” Tyler says, eyes closing. He feels the bed dip as Jamie climbs in next to him, a heavy arm slung over his stomach a second later. He’s out like a light a minute later and has a bunch of weird dreams about Jamie just basically holding different things like hockey sticks and beer bottles and Tyler’s wrists.

When he finally wakes up the next morning it takes him a little while to drag himself out of bed, but the sound of Jamie moving around in the kitchen and the smell of food makes it easier. He pops some Tylenol before he goes and when he finally makes it to the kitchen there’s a plate of eggs and toast on the counter with a glass of orange juice waiting for him. “Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jamie squeezes his shoulder.

“Still,” Tyler insists, turning his head to press a kiss to Jamie’s fingers. “Did you pick which movie you want?”

“Yeah, the one Roussel was talking about the other day? I can’t remember the name of it. You know the one I’m talking about, right?”

“Uh,” Tyler takes a swig of his orange juice. “The one with the missing kids and the creepy death music and the lady slapping that guy in the preview? _Final Motive_?”

“Yeah!” Jamie snaps his fingers, then laughs. “When you put it like that it sounds like shit.” Jamie busies himself with cleaning up the pan he used for the eggs, tying the bread bag closed and putting it back on the shelf. Tyler keeps hearing the words “domestic bliss” on repeat in his head and he knew he was always a sucker, but this is on another level. He gets the urge to watch Jamie go grocery shopping, watch him cross things off his list and debate the merits of organic ketchup versus regular and offer to bag his own groceries because he wants paper and plastic and doesn’t want to be a pain. Jesus.

“Looks like I'm running a little low on bread,” Tyler hears the words come out of his mouth before he can even process them. “Maybe we should go to the grocery store.”

Jamie takes a look at the bread bag then walks over to check the contents of the fridge. He makes a few considering noises for a moment before closing the door and nodding, “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Let me make a list first, though.”

Tyler nods, solemn, cheeks burning with a hidden grin, “Sure, of course.”

*

It’s six in the afternoon, ninety-four degrees outside, and Tyler’s got a mouth full of cock. Life is pretty good right now, all things considered.

Jamie tastes like sweat and soap and he’s taking in all these deep, shaky breaths and even when he’s getting his cock sucked he still has that stupid lost puppy dog look on his face. Tyler could probably come on Jamie’s face every day for the rest of his life and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Jamie groans, “Shit, _please_ , Ty.”

Tyler’s kind of been torturing the guy; Jamie made him come earlier in the shower so he’s been in no rush. He’s happy to stay on his knees for as long as he can make Jamie hold out, which, is a pretty long time when Tyler’s the one in control.

Tyler pulls off Jamie’s dick with an audible pop, wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand, enjoying the way Jamie’s eyes track his every movement, the corner of his mouth turns up, “You want it?”

Jamie whines, head falling back and fists unclenching, “ _Yes_ , fuck, let me come. I wanna come.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything, just swallows Jamie’s fat dick once more, letting himself gag before moving up to suck on the head a little more. He can feel Jamie’s legs shaking in his grip and when he spits on the length of it, making it all sloppy wet Jamie’s hips jack up so hard Tyler doesn’t even think he can control himself anymore. His voice is all raw and lost like he doesn’t know why Tyler keeps trying to deep throat his cock only to pull off instead of just letting Jamie blow a load inside his mouth, “Ty, _shit_ , I can’t.”

“Can’t what?” Tyler asks, the picture of innocence.

Jamie just groans, throwing his head back and grabbing the back of Tyler’s head, forcing him back down on Jamie’s dick. “Can’t stop, Ty, please. Need it, _please_ , just suck it.”

Tyler takes mercy on him and swallows his cock down again, tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as Jamie begs him not to stop, thrusting his hips up as he holds Tyler down. If Tyler could come again this would be the exact moment it would happen.

“Oh, god,” Jamie grunts, hips finally stilling as he spills down Tyler’s throat, his grasp tightening for a few seconds before his hands fall limply to the couch. Tyler swallows it all down and keeps sucking on the head when he’s finished, lapping at the slit like he’s waiting for more. When Jamie weakly pushes him away a moment later, he goes easy, moving around until he’s leaning against the back of the couch. He listens to Jamie breathing in deep a few times, a dumb smile on his face, and can’t believe there was ever a time when he really tried to convince himself he didn’t _really_ want to suck Jamie’s dick, he was just _confused_.

“I just need, like, two minutes.” Jamie weakly holds up his hand. “And then I’ll crawl to the phone and order pizza.”

Tyler laughs, “Because I’m so generous I’ll give you five.”

Jamie snorts, “How kind.”

*

Tyler's been at the bar for maybe an hour and a half and he's four beers and a shot in and should definitely be at least _thinking_ about slowing down, but then he'll catch sight of Jamie next to him and think about ordering another shot instead. Jamie's not even dressed all that well in a plain black t-shirt and jeans, but he's leaning back in his chair all smug over winning some stupid debate about fucking Nascar with Jason and his thighs are spread so his knee is touching Tyler's and every time Tyler brings him another beer he squeezes high up on Tyler's thigh and practically fucking purrs in his ear, "So good to me, babe."

Tyler wants to scream.

Tyler wants to get his hand on his dick, wants Jamie to watch, eyes flickering between his face and his dick, before he says, "You're so good for your daddy, Ty."

He's got to say something. He's got to. They've been together for almost a year now and his - his _need_ for this god damn _word_ has been here for the entire fucking time. He can't escape it. He wants it so bad. Jamie's just so big and strong and soft and _sweet_  and Tyler just _needs._  Tyler wants to hear the word drip from his lips, knows it'd sound absolutely filthy, knows it'd make the burning need in his stomach quiet down.

The song changes to something obnoxious, the DJ somehow making it even louder as the bass seems to rattle the whole building, and Tyler looks up at Jamie and says, "Daddy."

Jamie turns to him, like he knows what Tyler said, like he knows and there's nothing wrong with it. His eyebrows draw together and he raises his voice to be heard, "What?"

"I said, this song is fucking terrible."

"I know," Jamie laughs, leans in close. "I can't even hear you. I'm, like, reading your lips."

Tyler grins, shifting in his seat, dick so hard he actually wonders if anyone would even notice if he just got it out right here. He needs to stop drinking.

Tyler, to the surprise of absolutely no one, does not stop drinking. Instead, he continues to drink until he’s sloppy, fingers stroking along the lines of Jamie’s biceps and mushing his face into the soft space between his shoulder and pec, the smell of Jamie’s deodorant mixed with his sweat only serving to make his mouth water.

Jamie guides them out of the club, his arm wrapped around Tyler’s waist, and when Tyler’s too busy drooling over Jamie to notice the curb he stumbles and Jamie tightens his grip, holding him up with ease. Tyler moans, “You’re so strong.”

Jamie practically guffaws he’s laughing so hard, chokes out, “So are you, Ty.”

Tyler blushes, “Thanks.”

Jamie cracks up all over again.

Tyler rambles the entire car ride home, hands straying to Jamie’s thigh and bicep, squeezing until Jamie asks him what the hell he’s trying to accomplish and Tyler really doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to dig his fingers in and squeeze because he can, he’s allowed to, that’s _his_ thigh and _his_ bicep and _his_ Jamie. Jamie takes it all in stride for the most part, laughing even as the flush in his face deepens.

And then they’re sitting in Tyler’s kitchen and there’s broken glass on the floor and Jamie’s shushing his apologies while sweeping it into a dust pan and Tyler can’t not say it, “You always give me what I need and you don’t even have a clue.”

Jamie just looks at him for a moment, all his quiet, intense focus on Tyler, throwing out the glass before taking a seat and placing his hands on the table. "What do you mean?"

And Tyler's blushing, yeah, but he's been waiting to get this shit off his chest for god knows how long and he's all loosened up from drinking earlier and he blurts, "I just - I want to be taken care of sometimes, you know? You're good to me that way." He pauses, wringing his hands nervously. "You make me feel safe."

"Oh," Jamie breathes, licking his lips. "That's - that's good, Ty." Tyler nods because he doesn't know what else to say; he finishes his water bottle to try and distract himself from the way his dick's getting hard just from Jamie looking at him like this and saying 'that's good, Ty'. "Is there-"

"Sometimes," Tyler clears his throat, cutting Jamie off. "Sometimes when we're fucking and you're - I'm on my stomach and you're -" god, his face feels like it's on fire as he meets Jamie's eyes. "Sometimes I call you daddy, really quietly so you won't hear and stop."

Jamie lets out a breath, hands twitching against the table. "Fuck, Tyler, that's-"

"Disgusting? Weird, wrong?"

"No," Jamie frowns. "Stop, no." So Tyler shuts up, nods in Jamie's direction and presses his lips together to show he's listening. "God, I don't really know what to say here."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Jamie rushes out. "God, don't be." Tyler shrugs, hands still twisting together as he stares down at the bite marks in the leg of the table from when Marshall was going through his teething phase as a puppy in Boston. "Tyler," he waits until Tyler looks up at him. "Say it, call me it."

It takes him a minute, like he's not sure if Jamie's being serious or not, before the tension in his hands and shoulders just sort of oozes out of him and he breathes, "Daddy."

"Yeah, fuck, that's perfect." Jamie leans back in his chair for a second before getting up and kneeling down in front of Tyler, wrapping one of his big hands around the back of Tyler's neck and pulling him down for a kiss. He whispers, "I want to fuck you so bad right now."

"Do it," Tyler urges, pressing kisses along Jamie's jaw. "C'mon." Tyler knows he won't, knows Jamie will want to wait until Tyler's completely sober before doing something this nerve-wrackingly new.

Still, his hands tighten their grip on Tyler before he forces himself to relax, "Soon.”

"Promise?" Tyler breathes, desperate.

Jamie uses his grip to tilt his head back, leaning in so close their lips brush when he says, "Promise."

*

Tyler can’t stop moaning, can’t even remember how to open his eyes. All he can do is keep his legs spread open and keep readjusting his grip on Jamie when his hands slide. He knows he probably looks stupid, mouth wide open and dumb noises spilling out, but Jamie has one arm hooked under Tyler’s neck and the other is holding himself up as he fucking _pounds_ into Tyler like it’s the last time they’re going to fuck.

Tyler thinks he might die. Okay, maybe not die, but he certainly feels like he can’t breathe; the AC broke and they’ve got hot, humid air filtering in through the window and Jamie is heavy and solid and so fucking good on top of him.

They haven’t talked about their conversation from the other night and at first Tyler was grateful, thought he’d be too embarrassed, but now, with Jamie fucking him like this he wishes they did. He knows it’s going to come out, keeps shoving his fingers in his mouth for something to block the word from leaving.

Jamie presses a delicate kiss to the side of Tyler’s neck, in such contrast with the raw, almost _angry_ way he’s fucking him that it sends chills down Tyler’s body and makes his dick leak even more as he lets out a desperate sob.

As long as Jamie keeps it like this Tyler can keep that last little part of himself under control. He’ll keep his fingers in his mouth and he won’t think about how small and safe he feels under Jamie, how he feels like he’s being taken apart.

And then Jamie stops and pulls away, Tyler whines, “No, don’t stop. Baby, don’t stop.”

Jamie’s eyes are the darkest Tyler’s ever seen them, pupils all blown, his lips bitten up and his chest flushed and shiny with sweat. Tyler lets his eyes flick over his biceps, wants Jamie to make it so Tyler can’t move even if he uses all his strength. Jamie rushes out, “I’ve got you, Ty. You wanna be good for me? Move down a little, okay? Yeah, right there, that’s perfect babe.”

They’ve done it like this before, with Tyler on his back half riding Jamie in his lap and it’s great, but when he goes to move again Jamie presses down on his stomach, hard.

“Daddy didn’t say you could move,” Jamie’s jerking his thick cock like he needs to come right this fucking second, eyes heavy as he meets Tyler’s gaze and Tyler? Tyler is too busy trying not to blow his load right then and there that he can’t even get out a reply.

Jamie waits until he stops squirming around on the bed, until the pool of precome on his stomach is dripping down his side, and then pushes Tyler’s legs up and back so far the stretch is almost painful. He’s about to laugh it off, tell Jamie to put his damn legs down, when Jamie shuffles forward and lets his dick rest on Tyler’s hole, head hanging low when the tip slides in easy causing every protest to die in his throat.

“Keep,” he grunts. “Keep your legs like this, Ty. Okay? I’m gonna take care of you just like this.”

Tyler is practically mewling, sweat pouring off the both of them as he hooks his arms around his knees and keeps them where Jamie puts them.

And then Jamie puts his hands on the bed on either side of Tyler’s head, lets his weight shift, and then fills Tyler up deeper than he ever even thought possible.

He might actually be yelling. Holy shit, he is definitely yelling.

“C’mon, Ty. Let it out.”

“Daddy, oh fuck, _daddy_.”

Jamie’s watching his dick slide in and out of Tyler’s hole, “Shit, say it again, every time you say it your hole fucking squeezes down on me so good.”

He feels like if he pressed down on his stomach he'd be able to feel Jamie's dick in him. It's almost uncomfortable in a way, but he can't get enough. Tyler blinks up at Jamie almost dazedly, mouth open in a round O, whining in disbelief, "It's so deep, daddy."

Jamie's eyebrows scrunch up and he groans loudly, hips snapping even harder. Tyler lets one of his legs go and weakly places a hand on Jamie's belly, fingertips fluttering. He doesn't even know what he's doing anymore, just knows he feels like he's about to explode. It's when Jamie shifts that little bit and starts pounding that spot inside him that Tyler's hand flattens on Jamie's stomach like he wants to push him out, like it’s so good he can’t take it.

"There we go," Jamie whispers, leaning down to press kisses to Tyler's red cheeks. "That's it. Daddy knows how you like it."

Tyler's squirming against him, pleasure shooting through his entire body as he sobs under Jamie. He feels his orgasm building, balls drawing up, but he doesn't want it to be over yet, not when he waited so long for this. He can't believe he talked himself into thinking Jamie would hate this. "Please," Tyler begs. "Need it. Need your fat dick in me every day, just like this, oh _god_."

"Show me how much you need it," Jamie starts to lose his rhythm then, tucking his face into the crook of Tyler's neck. "Come on daddy's dick, baby."

Tyler's eyes squeeze shut as he gasps in surprise, dick spurting out come between them, his back arching as he comes for what feels like an hour. When Tyler can finally open his eyes again he realizes Jamie is still curled into him, body shaking as he pants wetly against Tyler's neck. Fuck, Tyler loves him.

"Ty," Jamie rasps. "Can't - I can't stop."

"It's okay," Tyler groans, dragging his nails down Jamie's back, "Use my hole. Want you to come inside me."

"Fuck," Jamie grunts, whole body going stiff. "Oh, _fuck_."

Tyler feels it when he comes; Jamie's hips jerking as he fills Tyler up, his sweet little moans in Tyler's ear.

Tyler finally lets his legs down a minute later, hissing a little at the soreness, letting out a breath when Jamie pulls his dick out slowly. Jamie kneels between Tyler's legs, wrapping careful hands around Tyler's calves and helping to stretch his legs out gently before collapsing next to Tyler. "I think you killed me."

"I'm already dead," Tyler laughs, "I died the second you pushed my legs back."

Jamie laughs, this bright sound that makes Tyler grin, "Jesus, that was something else. You liked it, right? Everything?"

"Yes," Tyler says emphatically. "Yeah. Loved it."

Jamie sighs, eyes closing as he throws an arm over Tyler, "Good, me too."

"Sleep time," Tyler places a kiss on the tip of Jamie's nose, warmth blooming in his chest when Jamie smiles, "Thank you."

Jamie tightens his hold on Tyler and starts snoring a second later. Tyler drapes a hand over Jamie's arm, makes himself comfortable, and watches Jamie sleep for a moment, unable to stop smiling for even a second.


End file.
